


Fall's Edge

by Kedreeva



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sciles, Skittles, TWCP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kedreeva/pseuds/Kedreeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Of course I'm going to make you go swimming," Stiles told him, rounding the back corner of the Jeep and shoving a beach towel into Scott's chest. "This is a time honored tradition that I intend to uphold. As my best friend, it is your duty to uphold it with me."</p><p>Every year Stiles takes Scott on a trip to the lake.  (Fic commission for Daunt)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall's Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/gifts).



> Notes: For Daunt, from the Sterek Campaign's author auction event. And because Daunt... is responsible for like 99% of my Skittles feels...

The lake was not far from town, maybe half an hour's drive even at the leisurely pace Stiles took. Scott lay slouched in the passenger seat for most of the ride, forehead against the cold window, steam feathering out across the glass with every breath. Stiles didn't particularly like the way Scott kept one foot propped up on the center console, by the shifter, but he didn't say anything. The day was going too well to disturb it for something so trivial.

            So he just relaxed, let the stereo music fill the silence between them, and watched the back road seep past around him. He enjoyed these sorts of roads, with their smooth blacktop and lack of traffic. He loved the way the trees bowed overhead as he drove, creating a tunnel of fire-colored leaves all around his Jeep. If his life hadn't included the actual possibility of traveling through a wormhole to another dimension, he might have likened it to that sort of feeling... but he wasn't sure that wasn't a possibility anymore, so he let the thought fade.

            By the time they reached the lakeside, Scott had fallen asleep. The rattle of his Jeep on the rocky dirt road woke his best friend, who blearily opened his eyes and looked out the window. "We're there," he said groggily.

            "Yeah," Stiles said, swirling the wheel to pull into the deserted parking lot. They would pull the pup tent out later, but for now he just wanted out of the car and away from the world of monsters and men. "Come on, get up."

            Scott groaned, but the door clacked open and he all but spilled out onto the ground. "You're not really going to make me go swimming are you?" he asked, giving a little, fake shiver. Objectively it was chilly outside, though Scott was still warm.

            "Of course I'm going to make you go swimming," Stiles told him, rounding the back corner of the Jeep and shoving a beach towel into Scott's chest. "This is a time honored tradition that I intend to uphold. As my best friend, it is your duty to uphold it with me."

            "Stiles, it's like fifty degrees out," Scott whined even as he was settling the towel over his shoulders and trading his sneakers for sandals.

            "It's at least sixty," Stiles informed him. "Besides, it's been sunny, and the water won't have cooled off that much."

            Though Scott gave him a look, he didn't protest again. Stiles had made up his mind and so they would go into the lake to swim and that would be that. It would be freezing, because it was always freezing, but Scott would put up with it because Scott had put up with this every fall since he had met Stiles. It was the last day that the lake's beach was open and Stiles insisted on enjoying it one last time before winter closed it.

            Scott knew why Stiles insisted, because Scott knew who used to take Stiles to the lake for one last picnic before the park closed. Scott hadn't mentioned it at all since the first year, when Stiles' dad had caught Stiles by the sleeve on the way out, told him that he didn't have to go back.

            Instead, Scott packed a picnic lunch, with ham and munster sandwiches, just like Stiles had told him about, and perhaps the Mountain Dew was new, but the thick plastic plates were the same ones Stiles' mother had always packed, the silverware the same sets that Scott had found inside the weathered picnic basket in Stiles' basement six years ago. He did his best to find two of Stiles' favorite apples, even though they were just coming into season usually, and he cut them lengthwise so the seeded core made a star for them to wish on before they went to bed.

            He remembered the details because they meant something to Stiles and because Stiles meant something to him. So even though the water was about a thousand times colder than Stiles had fooled the both of them into believing, even though the placid, autumn air should have chilled them both to the bone, Scott followed willingly as Stiles flung his shirt into the sand and splashed into the mirror-still lake.

            There was some amount of head dunking and who-can-swim-the-farthest. Stiles actually won the treading water competition; as it turned out, Scott's new muscles and denser bones were really not that great for staying afloat. Stiles crowed for half an hour about how at least he could beat werewolves at _one thing_. The wad of sticky algae and water plants Scott threw at his face finally shut him up.

            It was shortly after Stiles got tired of chasing Scott with a handful of slimy duckweed that Scott noticed the stutter in Stiles' heart, the way he was shivering even when he was moving. It was _cold_ even if Scott's much higher body temperature prevented him from really noticing. Being a werewolf, he could admit, had its benefits sometimes.

            "You're freezing," Scott observed aloud as he pushed off the bottom, cutting gracefully through the water until he was beside Stiles. Up close he could see how pale Stiles' skin was, how his pink lips had the slightest touch of blue.

            "N-no I'm n-not," Stiles stuttered around his shivering. "Okay, m-maybe I am..."

            Scott sighed, but he reached out and pulled Stiles through the water into a hug, tucked him up against his chest. Stiles wasted no time in putting his frozen nose into the crook of Scott's warm jaw. "You're ridiculous, you know that right?" Scott asked softly as Stiles adjusted to soak up heat, palms flat against Scott's ribs.

            "I hate you for being so warm," Stiles informed him with just a tiny bit of resentment. "You should have to be cold with me."

            "If I was cold with you, then I wouldn't be able to warm you up," Scott told him, heated hands scraping over the goose-pimples on Stiles' arms.

            It was Stiles' turn to sigh. "Shut up," he replied, but there was no malice in it. "We should get the tent pitched."

            Scott snorted and Stiles hit him in the ribs because he didn't mean _that_ tent. "Ow! Yeah, okay, we'll pitch your tent," Scott told him, still laughing as Stiles extracted himself from Scott's grasp.

            They splashed out of the water and Stiles paused to turn and look out over the water to where the sun was getting ready to set. Scott looked back for a second, and then fetched the towels from the picnic table where he'd left them. He draped one over Stiles' shoulders and Stiles returned from wherever he had been, wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand without looking at Scott.

            "Food or tent?" Scott asked.

            "Tent," Stiles replied. "Or it'll get dark and let's be honest, we are really bad at putting that thing together even when there's light."

            A bark of laughter escaped Scott. "Oh my god do you remember the year we just slept on top of the tent?"

            Stiles snorted and rolled his eyes. "Like I could forget... waking up covered in dew. You were in the sand. There were bugs."

            "You screamed like a little girl," Scott teased like he remembered it fondly. Stiles hit him in the chest and Scott laughed. "What, you did," he accused, but he was already scooting past Stiles toward the Jeep.

            Together they pulled the camping supplies from the back of the Jeep and carried them to the nearest campsite. It was deserted but clean, ready for the winter, and Scott made sure to take note of where everything was before they set anything down so that they could leave the place in the same condition as they left it. An effort Stiles completely invalidated by tossing the pile of tent pitching supplies in the center of the area and promptly kicking them into a semblance of order.

            "You know," Stiles said as he toed the bendy poles for the center supports off to one side together. "They say if a couple can survive putting a tent up together, then they'll last."

            "Oh, that's good," Scott told him, setting down his supplies. "Does that mean you're actually going to help this year?"

            "Hey! I help every year!" Stiles exclaimed, pulling a face at Scott.

            "Oh you were very helpful last time," Scott agreed in a way that wasn't agreeing at all. "Do you even have any idea where that goes?" he asked as Stiles picked up one of the poles.

            "I can tell you where I'm gonna put it," he told Scott with a grin.

            "Funny," Scott said, but he accepted the pole when Stiles relinquished it for another.

            It didn't take them long. Despite their banter they had both pitched the tent for the past six years together and by now it was almost easy. The tent was small, made for kids, the same one Stiles had been putting up since his father bought it for him to keep him out of the big tent at night. They crammed it full of sleeping pads, thermal sleeping bags, blankets, and pillows. Stiles fetched a little LED lamp from the Jeep and hung it from the ribbons at the apex of the support poles while Scott rooted around the trunk for the picnic basket.

            "It's not very cold," Scott told him as he handed him one of the 20oz Mountain Dew bottles. He placed the basket between them and let Stiles pry open the lid to look inside. The smile on Stiles' face was worth the effort.

            "Ham and munster... potato salad? Oh my god, you found the chips!" he exclaimed, pulling a bag of potato chips from the back of the basket. It was a local brand that Stiles hadn't been able to find in months; he was afraid the guy that made them had stopped.

            Scott smiled softly and reached in to pull out the two baggies of apples, passing one to Stiles in exchange for a sandwich. "They were hard to find," he told Stiles. "I had to find the actual place where the guy made them. There was begging. Not my proudest moment."

            Stiles laughed, but it sort of trailed off into a strange look as he held the bag of chips in one hand and the star-cut apples in the other. "Thank you," he said quietly.

            "Of course," Scott replied. _For you, of course._

            They ate quickly even though Stiles stopped halfway through to find a shirt because he was shivering again. Scott scooted closer when he sat down again, until their shoulders were pressed together, until Stiles leaned into him, until Stiles was eating with his head resting on Scott's shoulder. He practically radiated as much contentment as Scott was radiating heat. Eyes closed, Scott listened to his steady, heavy heartbeat until Stiles finally reached for the apples.

            "Do you remember how we met?" Stiles asked softly, turning one of the round slices over in his fingers.

            "You pushed me off a swing," Scott told him, taking a bite of his own apple.

            Stiles rolled his eyes. "We were eight," he said. "I mean... after that. Actually met."

            "Yeah," Scott said. "You were walking to school. I showed you how to ride on my handlebars so we could go to school together."

            "I was really excited when I bought my baby girl last year," Stiles admitted. "So I could repay the favor. Drive your ass around instead."

            Scott smiled, rested his cheek on the top of Stiles' head. "You just wanted to be able to drag me on your crazy adventures."

            "It was a good plan," Stiles defended before taking a bite of his apple finally.

            "And then werewolves," Scott said wistfully, like maybe there should have been less adventure in their lives.

            Stiles snorted, containing his laugh. "And then werewolves," he agreed around a mouthful of apple. "It hasn't turned out so badly, has it?"

            Looking down at Stiles, Scott thought about it for a moment. Becoming a werewolf had started with a lot of misery. He'd undergone a lot of intense changes, both physically and emotionally, but at the end of the day, he was more capable than ever of handling anything that came his way. He still had his mother. He still had Stiles.

            "It could be worse," he admitted.

            Stiles smiled, held out the star shaped core left in his hand. "What are you going to wish for this year?"

            "You first," Scott said, letting his own sticky star rest in the palm of his hand.

            "I wish... that you and I will make it to our senior year together," Stiles said softly. "You know, alive and well."

            Scott chuckled, and held up his star between his finger and his thumb. "I wish that we can find more moments like this," he said, looking down to Stiles. "We don't get a lot of alone time anymore, do we..."

            Stiles made a sort of resigned noise and pressed his star into Scott's palm. "Surviving our lives takes a lot of attention."

            "I dunno," Scott told him, laying his cheek atop Stiles' head. He was letting his hair grow out a little longer now and it was ridiculously soft. "I think I could spare a little more attention for you."

            A small hum escaped Stiles, the sort that told Scott he was unconvinced, but pleased anyway. Scott promised himself he would work on that.

            "Hey, come on." He shifted out from under Stiles and reached outside the tent to place the two stars just outside. They would be gone in the morning- they were always gone in the morning. Then he began picking up the picnic supplies to clear them off the makeshift bed. There wasn't even enough room for the two of them to sprawl out comfortably, much less if there was stuff taking up space with them.

            Stiles helped, then wiggled out of his shirt and dug up covers as Scott removed the basket to the Jeep so that nothing would get into it overnight. When Scott returned Stiles lifted the covers in an invitation.

            Without any hesitation Scott wormed his way under the covers with Stiles, grabbed him around the belly and pulled him closer. The skin of his back was chill against Scott's chest and he was very glad he was always warm. He tightened his arm around Stiles' middle, pressed a soft kiss to the nape of Stiles' neck.

            Stiles' fingers found his and he threaded them together before snuggling back against Scott. He felt it when Stiles relaxed, felt the tension seep out of his muscles, and he scooted one leg forward, over one of Stiles' at the ankle before he closed his eyes.

            "Comfy?" Scott murmured against his skin.

            Stiles' rumble of approval shivered over Scott's skin, bringing a smile to his lips. It was the best answer he was going to get, with the way Stiles was about to crash. So instead of pressing conversation, Scott let the beat of Stiles' heart do the talking, let it lull him into peaceful, dreamless sleep.

 


End file.
